


Turkish Oil Wrestling

by chewsdaychillin



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Hotel Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Screenplay/Script Format, hc for s3, mentions of stewy kendall and shiv, no actual turkish oil wrestling happens, writing dialogue that sounds like succession is hard but so so fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewsdaychillin/pseuds/chewsdaychillin
Summary: somewhere in a hotel in what they'd call Europe, Tom asks'what the hell are we going to do about this?'(this being the fall out from the yacht, sprinkles, Stewy, Kendall, and the rest) and Greg just sighs.'I don't know, Tom, why don't you suck my dick?'
Relationships: Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	Turkish Oil Wrestling

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for my dear beloved friend fish <3 much uwus 4 u now on to the bj

INT. FIVE STAR HOTEL BEDROOM - NIGHT

A dark, gothic hotel room, somewhere in what Americans call ‘Europe’. A large fireplace with a stag’s head above it, a fan-vaulted ceiling and a four-poster bed in the centre.

All the wood is dark mahogany. The curtains are drawn.

Greg is pouring two glasses of whiskey from a decanter on the side, jacket off, suitcase open on the bed.

He seems calm, preparing himself for a conversation he has known is coming.

Tom is pacing erratically in front of a big fireplace.

  
TOM  
So that’s it huh? You run off with Kendall and get in big, fancy hotel rooms without me now? And what, that’s it? Betrayal.

  
Greg turns around and tries to hand him a drink.

  
GREG  
It’s not betrayal-

  
Tom doesn’t take it, keeps pacing.

  
TOM  
Just leave old Tom behind on his own? Is too! Judas.

  
GREG  
Tom, dude. Just. I mean, you get it, right? I didn’t wanna be fucking gutted and- like I didn’t wanna be sprinkles.  
  


Tom knocks the glass out of his hand. Whisky spills on the rug, but the glass lands with a lacklustre thud.

Greg just rolls his eyes. Disappointed and yet not in the least bit surprised. He steps back.

  
GREG  
Dude.

  
TOM  
(Barrelling on)  
Sprinkles, fuck you! And now this, this fucking bullshit with Stewy. I’m over a fucking barrel here, Greg. Because of you and your best friend Kendall.

  
As he rants Greg distances himself and leans against the four-poster.

  
Tom rounds on him, desperately trying to reclaim any kind of authority through bitterness.

  
TOM (CONT'D)  
What are we going to do about this, Greg? Hm? What am I going to do about this?

  
GREG  
(sighing)  
Oh, I don’t know, Tom. Maybe you should just suck my dick.

  
They both go quiet. Tom takes a step back.

  
TOM  
What?

  
Greg takes a sip of his whiskey to buy time, unsure if it comes off nervous or cocky.

  
GREG  
(Very casually)  
I just, I’m- just suggesting. Putting it out there, you know. Into the old ether.

  
TOM  
(Overly affronted)  
Are you telling me to suck your dick right now, Greg?

  
GREG  
Maybe I am, Tom. Maybe I’m telling you. Wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of- turn up for the books.

  
TOM  
It sure would be, wouldn’t it. If you were serious, yeah.

  
Greg finishes the rest of the whisky and leans across to put the glass down on the sideboard.

  
GREG  
(To the decanter)  
Maybe I’m dead serious.

  
Tom gives him a long up and down, incredulous but something else as well.

  
TOM  
You’re very bossy right now, aren’t you, Greg. Found your footing in those Oxfords now, huh.

  
GREG  
(Nervous laugh)  
Maybe. Perhaps that could be true. That could be- huh.  
(Serious)  
Are- are you gonna?

  
Tom steps closer.

  
TOM  
Well it sounds like you’re telling me to.

  
GREG  
(Not breathing)  
Yeah. I am telling you to.

  
There is a moment of stand off.

Then Tom aggressively starts scrabbling with Greg’s belt, pushing him back against the four-poster.

Greg stammers a couple of swears, doesn’t know where to put his hands. He can’t believe his own luck, or power, as Tom yanks his trousers down.

Tom is about to drop to his knees.

  
GREG  
(Testing it)  
I am. Maybe you like it.

  
Tom snaps back up.

  
TOM  
(offended)  
I do not!

  
He steps back angrily.

  
GREG  
Are you kidding?

  
Tom storms away from Greg, leaving him stunned and unable to stumble after him with his trousers round his ankles.

  
GREG (CONT'D)  
Woah, I thought- hold- hold on Tom, I thought you-

  
Tom leans on the mantle piece, trying to glare masculine-ly into the fire.

  
TOM  
I do not like being told what to do. You can’t make me do anything.

  
Greg awkwardly half picks up his trousers, tucks his hair back and shuffles forward a bit.

  
GREG  
I’m not _making_ you, I wouldn’t _make_ \- who said anything about making? It’s just... You know, a bit of-

  
He is probably going to say ‘fun’ or something else normal.

  
TOM  
(Interrupting)  
Rough and tumble horseplay? Boys will be boys? Rolling around in the mud?

  
He looks up, glare falling off his face. He looks desperate for reassurance.

  
GREG  
Sure.

  
TOM  
Like Turkish oil wrestling?

  
GREG  
Okay, I don’t- I don’t actually know what that is, but sure.  
(Pause)  
I thought like... you would be... you know?

  
TOM  
Into it?  
(Incredulous mocking)  
You thought I, _me_ , would be into you, _you,_ telling me what to do?

  
GREG  
Well you seemed pretty... I mean you were down there so.

  
TOM  
Of my own volition.

  
GREG  
Yeah, uh huh. Sure. Okay.  
  


There is another pause. They are turned more towards each other again - Tom ignoring the fire, Greg holding his trousers around his knees with one hand.

Greg tests the waters with another joke.

  
GREG  
You gonna come back here of your own volition?

  
Tom stomps back over to prove a point, tearing off his jacket as he goes.

  
TOM  
Maybe, Greg. Maybe I will.

  
He shoves Greg’s trousers down, drops to his knees. Greg holds his hands up out of the way.

In the middle of ripping his tie off Tom has a sudden thought -

  
TOM (CONT'D)  
What’s your shoe size?

  
He shuffles closer.

  
GREG  
What? Tom, it’s just-

  
TOM  
(Right at dick level)  
I’m not a hippie you know, this isn’t regular for... I mean, just be regular.

  
GREG  
Right. Alright, sure.

  
Greg moves his hands to his waistband, but before he can get his underwear off -

  
TOM  
(Snapping)  
Don’t try anything weird.

  
GREG  
(A bit exasperated)  
I wasn't going to, I'm just- I'm taking these... Do you want me to leave these on and you somehow... I don't know-

  
TOM  
Lick your sweaty fucking Calvins, Greg? No fucking thank you, get that shit off.

  
Greg hurries to do so.

  
GREG  
Okay, okay.

  
TOM  
I’m not a fucking panty sniffer, I’m not weird.

  
GREG  
(Sighing)  
No, you’re not weird. You’re just gay.

  
Tom leans back as far as he can to look up at him. We take in his incredulity on a wide shot with a well placed antique.

  
TOM  
Me? Gay?! Greg!

  
GREG  
No? I thought-

  
TOM  
I’m married!

  
GREG  
Well, yeah but. I mean, not ha-

  
TOM  
Me, gay?!

  
GREG  
You swallowed your own-

  
TOM  
Oh Greg, shut up, have you seen my wife’s ass?

  
GREG  
Well, I thought it... That’s my cousin, so-

  
TOM  
I’m married, Greg, to a human woman. My wife.

  
GREG  
You’re talking about your wife a lot when my dick is like... right there...

  
Tom sits back on his heels.

  
TOM  
Yeah, well. I’m just saying.

  
GREG  
(Attempting to be reassuring but also finally get this man’s mouth actually ON his dick)  
Okay, so you’re bisexual.

  
Tom frowns and stands up again, thinking. Greg attempts not to look disappointed.

  
TOM  
I don’t know if I like that either. It sounds so... modern and... vegetarian.

  
Greg softens despite everything.

  
GREG  
No, look, Tom- it’s cool. It’s really, like honestly... it’s cool man.

  
TOM  
(Sounding small)  
Is it? Is it cool?

  
GREG  
Yeah, yeah. It’s very in vogue.

  
TOM  
(A laugh, finally)  
Oh, God, really?

  
GREG  
(Chuckling too)  
Yeah, yeah. All the cool kids are doing it.

  
TOM  
Ugh.  
  


GREG  
I’m messing, it’s really- like it’s honestly fine, you know?

  
TOM  
We’re just Turkish oil wrestling?

  
GREG  
No, I mean. Sure, if you want to just... uh, oil wrestle. But I mean it’s cool like, that...  
(He tries to be deep)  
Whatever you want, you know? Whoever you like. Like, it’s 2020 man.

  
Tom thinks about this, shuffles a few paces with his hands in his pockets.

  
TOM  
Right. Right, no, sure.

  
Greg lets him think. They both ignore the fact his dick is out.

Then Tom comes back towards him. Stands looking up and frowning. Not defiantly.

This is the first actual face to face moment and it’s far more still and intimate and erotically charged than either of them are prepared for.

Tom lunges suddenly and grabs Greg's collar, pulling him down, absolutely refusing to be on tiptoe. He slams into kissing Greg like he’s trying to break his nose.

Greg makes a loud surprised sound but goes with it. Adjusts and makes it work. Actually he looks like he’s probably a better kisser.

His hands flap a bit before going for Tom’s waist and pulling him closer. _Fucking finally._

Tom kisses and bites his neck (loudly with loud _ow_!s) before dropping out of frame for the third time.

We stay on Greg’s face and awkward hands.

  
GREG  
(Alarmed, but good?)  
Oh- woah!

  
He puts one hand on the wood behind him. One rests just out of frame, gingerly on Tom’s head or shoulder.

INT. SAME HOTEL ROOM - LATER

The two of them lounging decadently on the bed in crisp white bathrobes, hair dying, half empty plates of room service scattered on the covers.

Greg picks at a delicate, fruity desert while Tom is still gnawing on a chicken bone. Greg watches like he can’t believe he _let that guy_ _kiss him._

The high is wearing off. It’s nearing the time someone should maybe say something about the whole situation.

The phone rings. A vintage rotary dial phone on the bedside table.

Tom hesitates for a second. Looks at Greg like it’s going to ruin the mood. Like it’s a trap. Like it’s not his job to answer phones.

Then he wipes a his hand on the bathrobe and picks up.

  
TOM  
Yeah?  
(Listens)  
Fuck off.

  
He puts the phone down and goes back to chewing loudly.

Greg huffs a laugh. There are a million questions and it’s a bit awkward but he can always count on being fondly grossed out by this dickhead.

  
TOM (CONT'D)  
(Looking at him, smiling)  
What?

  
Greg just shakes his head and eats the last raspberry.

  
TOM (CONT'D)  
What?!  
  


They both laugh stupidly with his indignant tone. We leave them just as they break out the elbows.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u guys had fun here hehe 
> 
> i will take commissions and i have a kofi so if u wanna support me u can! im not meant to link them here but [here is](https://babyyodablackwood.tumblr.com/post/630528010471211008/ao3-fic-commissions-kofi-i-am-offering-proof) a link to the links


End file.
